Awakening
by Green Leap
Summary: A trip to the junk yard for spare parts is anything but mundane. Donnie centric. Some language, some violence.
1. Routine

**Chapter 1 : Routine**

"...my point _is_... when I ask for a wrench, that don't mean you pick up a wrench and mess with my girl while _I'm_ out gettin' us lunch." Raph popped the top on his Dr. Pepper, eyeing Casey angrily.

Casey took a bite of a turkey sub, shrugging as shredded lettuce dropped across his lap. "I was jus' tryin' to help. Make her run real smooth, y'know?"

Raph gestured at his motorcycle with the can, sloshing some of the cold soda onto the cement floor. "All she does is stall out! You call dat 'help'? Eh!" He shook his head, and waved Casey off in frustration, taking a long gulp of the soda. That didn't satisfy him for long, though, and he was turning on Casey for more. "You got some nerve, you know dat?"

"Nerve!" Casey looked offended, propping one foot on a milk crate as he lounged across the seat of his own motorcycle. "I can't help it if my ride's runnin' all smooth-like, and yours aint. I got nothin' to do around here."

"Then why don'tcha go home! Heh? Geddoutta here." Raph took a menacing step toward Casey, though Casey was all too used to this abusive approach to conversation. In fact, he enjoyed it, and the gleam in his eye gave that away as he stood up with a clumsy stomp.

"FINE! Maybe I will. I'll just go, and... let you make a wreck of that bike you _just_ got your hands on, there, until all you got's a pile of scrap metal. That sound good to you?" He took a large, sideways bite out of the sub, and wiped mayonnaise from his mouth with the back of his hand. It tasted a little funny, and he looked down at it with a scrunched up expression. "Where'd you get this, anyway?"

Raph crossed his arms. "Where d'you think? I'm a _giant turtle_."

Casey looked back at him, baffled. "Subway?"

"Not the one you're thinkin' of." Raph shook his head, and went back to his bike, crouching down beside it to look at the engine. He knew he shouldn't have trusted Casey not to tinker with things... it was most likely sabotage. The constant competition between the two of them, over who had a better bike, whose engine was smoother, whose paint job was slicker... it would've driven Raph to do the same thing, had Casey been the one to get lunch. Not to permanently damage Casey's bike, or put anyone in danger... just to see Casey's twisted expression of confusion as he tried to figure out what was wrong with it.

It was the expression Raph was making right at that moment. Casey stood over Raph's shoulder, chewing on turkey and swiss... pointing to the engine. "Really purred like a kitten, for a while. Shoulda seen 'er."

Raph emitted a growling sigh.

"Is she a four-stroke, or a two-stroke?"

Raph and Casey both looked back to the doorway, where Donatello stood casually. Raph was less then thrilled at his brother's emergence from his technological temple of wires and motherboards.

"Whatsit?" Raph asked with clear-cut confusion.

"The engine. Is it a four-stroke, or a two-stroke?"

"Two." Raph answered blandly, staring at Don.

"Oh." Donnie seemed cheerful, despite Raph's unencouraging expression. "Well, she's probably air-cooled, which means you can't let her idle down here for too long. Not in this heat." He crossed his arms, and leaned casually against the stone archway that lead from the "garage", to the rest of the lair.

Casey scratched the back of his head. "What, she overheated?"

Donnie nodded. "Yeah." He shrugged. "A two-stroke's got a lot of advantages over the four-stroke... more power, lighter build, environmentally friendly... but most of them don't have a cooling system. If you're not moving, you'll overheat. Let her sit a little longer, and try again. Oh, and, uh... you might want to see about some ventilation down here." He looked around at the enclosed space. "You'll wind up killing brain cells. I know there aren't too many to spare, between the two of you." The tone behind Donnie's jab was friendly, and he gave the two of them a small smile and a salute, before heading back in the direction of his lab.

Raph looked after his brother with glowering distaste.

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It was the least Don could do… slide into the conversation, out-mechanic Raphael, and disappear before a power tool flew through the air, aimed at his head. (It'd happened before.) Sure, Mikey had the power of the goofball, and Leo was straightforward about insulting anyone's intelligence, but Donnie preferred a passive-aggressive approach. It probably wouldn't have taken Raph another ten minutes to decide his engine had overheated. Getting there before him must've been infuriating.

Smirking, Donnie stepped back into his "lab", a section of the sewer den dedicated to whatever chemical, electronic, or mechanical interests happened to be on his mind. A cup of cold coffee sat on the desk among a scattered pile of notes and wires, and the screen saver on his PC monitor displayed several toasters in flight. Behind him, he could hear Casey and Raph, argumentative as usual, and the slicing and klinking of Leo's swords, echoing across the damp cement walls of the den as he practiced in the center. And there in front of him, no better than it had been a few moments ago, Don's latest project.

"What's that thing?"

Don was startled by his brother's voice. Mike didn't seem apologetic, and only stared at Donnie curiously for the answer to his question. Donnie sighed.

"It's _supposed_ to be a vital signs monitor."

Mikey looked at the boxy contraption, and the wires spilling out of bent metal edges.

"Um… I think it's dead, Donnie. Flatline." He gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Sometimes you just gotta learn when to let go, dude."

"No, it'll _work_…" he snatched up the monitor with another sigh, and turned to lean back against the edge of the messy desk. "I almost had it. This would've been great!"

"Great for our family veterinarian." Mike shrugged, not really grasping the greatness. "What happened to it?"

"Raph got angry." Don plopped the monitor back on the desk, and it rolled to one side with a metallic clanking reminiscent of scrap metal. Mikey frowned.

"Ouch. My condolences."

Donnie started to straighten some papers around the area, pushing a flashlight and a Rubik's cube out of his way. "Yeah. And it's not like I can just pick up another one… those things are expensive, and hospitals don't exactly just throw them away. This really would've been worth it."

"Can't we just… monitor our own vitals?" Mike took a deep breath, and let it out, and then looked thoughtful, before nodding in approval. "Yup. Still breathing."

Donnie rolled his eyes. "Mikey…" He sounded sort of annoyed, and Michaelangelo took that as a cue to turn and leave. But not without monitoring his own vitals as he did, his hand across his plastron.

"Blip… blip… blip…YEOW!" A slice of Leo's katana, and a few stumbling steps. "Leo! Almost gave me a heart attack, bro."

Donnie let his gaze move slowly across the surface of his desk, lost in thought.

--------------------------------

Leo let Michaelangelo pass by him, and ignored the hopping steps his brother took while making exclamatory comments about angina. The interruption only cost him a few moments out of his kata, and as soon as the area was clear again, he continued.

The long strokes of the blade as it sliced through the air, the clean blocks accompanied by a sharp kiai, and the rhythmic steps that led Leo through the kata like a violent dance gave him time to focus, and think. The space in the lair was his own, and he could feel balance in his body and mind, quiet in--

vrrp-VRRROOOM!

The roar of a motorcycle engine bounced through the sewer den, followed by a raucous cheering from Raph and Casey. Leo stubbed his toe on an exposed pipe that stuck up through the cement floor.

"Damnit!" He muttered, and sighed, resetting his stance, and blancing the katanas in his hands. _Where was he? Right, the quiet in his soul._ He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to center himself.

"Leo!" A voice came suddenly from the kitchen.

"What, Mikey." He responded through clenched teeth.

"Didja know we're out of peanut butter, bro?"

"Yes! I knew."

"Oh. Okay!" A cabinet door closed with a thump.

Leo gave an annoyed glare toward the kitchen.

_Seriously._

He sighed again, and shook his head, his expression relaxing, fading into defeat. He'd be better off heading to the rooftops after sunset to get some practice in. As he slipped his swords back into their sheaths on his back, he saw Donatello emerge from his lab.

"Hey. Any luck with the monitor?"

Donnie shook his head sadly, and gave Leo a cut-throat gesture, indicating the gadget's untimely fate. Leo's brow furrowed with concern as he watched Don.

"You going out?"

Donnie paused, picking up his bo from the corner of the room. "Yeah." He gave Leo a small smile. "Just a junk run. No worries."

Leo nodded, and crossed his arms as he watched Donnie head for the door. He was suddenly struck with a brilliant plan.

"Hey, Don!"

Donnie stopped at the door, turning to Leo with a pleasant demeanor, one hand on the brick frame as he held his bo in the other like a walking stick. "Yeah?"

Leo smiled sheepishly. "Pick up some peanut butter?"

--------------------------------

Don's bo slid against his shell with a dull "shhk!" as he placed the weapon into his belt. He wasn't likely to need it, as he traveled the sewer tunnels beneath the city on his way to the junk yard. It was midday, and the worst of the worst always presented itself in the dead of night, rarely below the streets. The tunnels were friendly, lit softly here and there with sunshine streaming in through manhole covers and metal grates. The muffled hum of busy traffic created a pleasant backdrop of distant sound, and the occasional construction vehicle softly rippled the rainwater that ran down the center of the tunnel.

Donnie watched as a rat looked up from a discarded candy wrapper, startled by his presence. The animal scuttled into a crack in the cement, leaving the bits of chocolate covered paper. The number of rats in the area had been slowly increasing as he neared the junk yard, although he didn't mind too much... they reminded him of Splinter.

A few more blocks and a short climb to the surface brought Donatello to the gates of the junk yard. The place was like a convenience store for him... he could stop by anytime to pick up a few car batteries, an old hard drive, or a CB radio. He eagerly hopped onto a stack of wooden palettes, and extracted his bo to vault to the other side of the chain link fence. Today they had a special on medical equipment repair.

Don landed softly on the ground, and surveyed the area. He could see the guard at the booth near the entrance on the other side of the lot. The blue-uniformed junk-keeper seemed to be taking a nap. The access road nearby was also silent. Slow day for junk. Good day for Donnie.

He headed off into the valley that led between mountains of scrap metal and discarded gadgets, and began to shop. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for, but he knew there must be some way to bring that vital signs monitor back to life. _Heh... wasn't that ironic._ He wasn't ready to give up on something that had been so hard to get his hands on in the first place. He had his sights ultimately set on some pretty sweet gear to equip himself and his brothers for their more difficult missions. Working solo would be easier, and getting split up would be a lot less detrimental. Monitoring his brothers meant being there without really being there.

Of course, Raph had to destroy the equipment before Don's dream could even be realized. Not that the hothead had _meant_ to kick the monitor across the room and into the wall. He didn't know what the metal box was for. Don, of course, thought that maybe Raph shouldn't go around kicking strange metal boxes, and spare them all some woes. That was maybe a bit much to ask. He grumbled to himself in annoyance as he dug through a pile of electronics wires.

Loud, angry barking made him look up from his task. He'd completely forgotten about the dobermans.


	2. Sphere

_Thanks goes to RedRebel84 and engelina for their reviews! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! _

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**Chapter 2 : Sphere **

The Dobermans closed in on their target, rounding the corner at full, snarling speed, one of them hurriedly leaping over a rusted filing cabinet. The turtle, however, was gone before they ever spotted him. The guard dogs halted their pursuit where Donatello had last stood, snuffling busily at the ground, unable to pick up a new scent, and communicating their confusion through worried barks and whining.

Donnie sighed as he looked down at the dogs from his perch atop a gutted 1991 Chrysler. He was, if anything, a ninja, and a swift, acrobatic leap landed him atop the junk heap he now occupied. But that didn't discount his forgetfulness. Any other day, he'd have come prepared with a few dog biscuits, maybe a package of Oscar Mayer wieners – the dogs were real pushovers. But today he was empty-handed. If only Leo hadn't distracted him with peanut butter back at the lair.

_Nah…who do I think I'm kidding? _This wasn't about Leo, or peanut butter. It was about Donnie's current project, and his preoccupation with it. He shook his head, and ducked down behind the Chrysler as the dogs lifted their heads to bark in his direction. The guard would be by soon to see what they were fussing about, so the turtle needed to make himself scarce. For the moment, though, the ground, and any escape route, was off limits. He took a seat atop a broken milk crate. Snuggled between pieces of metallic scrap and feeling very much like a treed cat, he proceeded to question his daytime excursion.

There'd been no _real_ reason he'd needed to go out before dusk… just the preoccupation. The fact that the device, his _idea_, didn't work. In the end, of course, he blamed Raph for kicking the damned thing across the lair. In actuality, the monitor didn't work _before_ Raph punted it, and there was the issue: Donnie didn't know why. After working on it day and night, for weeks, it needed this junk trip _before_ Raphael's kindly assistance just as much as after.

"Now you shut yer yappin', there ain't nobody here!" The guard complained over the whining barks of the dogs on the other side of Don's junk heap. He didn't hear the man, as he stared contemplatively across the cluttered lot, lost in the idea that he'd missed something, somehow. This monitor was important to him, it was a chance to really help his brothers on the battlefield, and it took just a little bit of the edge off of their way of life. But now, with the Dobermans on alert, the yard was barely workable. Because of Donnie's own impatience, this trip was a bust, and he—

The sunlight hit something very, very shiny, just across the lot. It glittered and glinted bright enough to pull Don from his pessimistic train of thought, and he squinted at it, trying to get a better look. It was most definitely the only piece of polished chrome in the whole place. Donnie looked at it apathetically for a moment, before finally deciding to get off his shell and check it out. As he began to navigate his way down the mountain of trash, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure the guard had gone with his growling pets, he thought that even if he came home with a brand new floor lamp, the day wasn't a complete loss.

--------------------------------

The setting sun danced across the edge of Leo's blade as he pulled the weapon from its sheath. Finally, the rooftop offered him some solace. The chatter of the television and the grinding of motorcycle engines had plagued him for the better part of the day, leaving the terrapin grouchy and impatient. His ki felt scattered.

Leo took in a deep breath as he focused on the weight of the katana in his hand. A cool breeze picked up, tossing the royal blue fabric of his bandana across his shoulder, while the warm, orangey glow of the summer sunset cast a golden wash over the terrapin's green skin. His brow furrowed in thought as he lifted the sword, and began the dance.

If his brothers bothered to train only half as much as Leo did, they wouldn't be nearly as distracting. He knew that they irked each other just as much as they irked him, but was that lack of discipline, or just sibling rivalry? They all seemed preoccupied, lately, and it no doubt lent to their need for space. Raph spent most of his time with Casey, as they worked on their bikes, and Michaelangelo had made a habit of floating among his brothers, checking nerves, until he finally settled down with some comic books or a video game. Don had been holed up with his latest project for some time.

Leo turned with a sudden kiai, angling the blade downward as he held it with both hands. His movement was powerful, but at the same time, slow, and precise, as he paced himself through the kata.

He was worried. Something was going on in his family, and as the self-appointed leader among his brothers, he felt responsible. They were separate, dissociated with each other's routines. However, they each had their unique interests, and he couldn't fault them for that. If each of them trained and fought exactly like Leo, they wouldn't be a team, and they wouldn't have made it as far as they had. Maybe Leo was looking too deeply into it.

Maybe they were just growing up.

Leo chuckled to himself, quietly, and spun the katana in his hand as he stood a little straighter, pulling himself out of a walking stance. _Mikey would never grow up._

The wind played across the rooftop again, blowing a plastic bag noisily across the graveled surface. Leonardo's eyes followed the movement, but the sudden increased strength in the wind made him look back over his shoulder toward the glowing sun. The air whipped chaotically over the building, tossing bits of gravel into the air, and causing Leo's bandana to snap wildly behind him. His eyes widened in surprise, as two black helicopters rose up over the edge of the building, looming ominously in the sky directly overhead.

--------------------------------

Donnie crossed his arms, and raised a brow at the shiny chrome object. It was a sphere, perfectly round and smooth, and perfectly deceiving from afar. It was probably someone's discarded garden décor, one of those tacky gazing balls. Don scratched the back of his head with a sigh, and kicked a small stone across the dirt at the pile of junk the chrome ball sat in. He'd turned to head for the fence, when a low humming caught his attention, and he stopped to look back, eyeing the sphere suspiciously.

It was humming.

Don moved to get a closer look, curious as to why a stationary lawn ornament would be battery operated, his toes sinking into the sandy dirt as he leaned forward. Not only was the sphere humming, but it was also glowing with a soft, pulsating white light. Each time the light spread across the metallic surface, it seemed the interior was visible, a network of electronic pathways, circuitry—some sort of computerized system housed within the plain globe. As fascinating and surprising as it was, it didn't seem to belong here, in the junkyard. And considering his technological nature, Donnie wasn't about to leave it behind.

Stretching to reach over a twisted bicycle frame, Donatello placed both hands around the sphere, the tails of his plum-colored mask falling down over his shoulders as he moved. He made sure he had a firm grip on the smooth, slippery surface, and lifted the device out of its place in the pile of trash. It was surprisingly light, and warm to the touch. Don surmised that the heat came from whatever was producing the light that continued to pulse over the object.

"Well." He sighed, speaking quietly and interestedly to the sphere, holding it up in his hands to look over it at eye level. "You're no health monitor, but I guess you'll have to do."

In response, the sphere rattled violently, suddenly. In Don's haste to keep from dropping it, he was unable to avoid the thin, sharp needles that shot out from the sphere's surface, slicing through his hands, rippling out from the device like liquid mercury, and pinning him in place as they froze.

The turtle yelled out with a startled gasp of pain, and staggered backward, his eyes wide as he tried to free his hands from the metallic trap. The surface of the sphere glowed, and pulsed, slower, and dimmer, and Donnie found his gaze was fixed there, watching the rippling light, following it deeper into the circuitry… He fell to his knees in the sand, transfixed, his breathing becoming deeper, and slower, following the light… and for a few seconds, he was only remotely aware of the warmth of the setting sun, the dust settling around his legs, and the barking dogs, somewhere on the outside.

--------------------------------

"Don'tcha think we should check on Donnie?" Raph asked in an annoyed tone, flipping a grease-stained towel over his shoulder. "Ain't he usually back here fixin' stuff by now?" Casey had gone home, and he was left with the company of his brothers for the remainder of the night. Only, two of them seemed to be missing. He knew Leo was training… he wasn't about to interrupt that. Well… maybe later, just to piss him off. Last he heard of Don, he was off looting the junk yard. That was really only fun for Don.

Mikey looked up to Raph from his seat on the floor in front of the television. "Maybe he's mad at you for breaking that monitor thing." He leaned back on his arms, and a marmalade striped cat climbed into his lap, purring.

Raph looked unimpressed, narrowing his eyes at Mikey. "Yeah, maybe he's mad at _you _for buggin' 'im alla da time. Ever think of that?"

Mikey felt a little offended, and his expression fell into an unhappy frown. "I don't bug Donnie!" He turned to the cat. "Do I, Klunk? I keep you out of his lab, and everything." He scratched Klunk's ears, and the kitty blinked happily, and watched the stringy ends of the towel hanging from Raph's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah…" Raph grumbled, and kept walking, as Mike continued to converse with his pet.

"…and I bring him coffee, and tell him jokes, and does he fix the XBox controller Leo sliced in half? Nooooooooo!"

Raph stopped, rolled his eyes dramatically, and heaved a sigh. "_Mikey_, would'ya do me a favor and shut your—"

"HELICOPTERS!" The door burst open.

"Shut your helicopters?" Klunk mewed to conclude Mike's confusion.

"Two of them!" Leo charged into the lair.

"Eh?" Raph propped his hands on his belt.

"What?" Mikey climbed to his feet, dusting himself off and looking between his brothers with concern.

Leo stepped up to them both, taking in a breath to explain. "I just saw two unmarked helicopters take off from the middle of town. They're scanning the streets with searchlights, and they're headed north. We need to check the news stations." On cue, Mike turned around and picked up the TV remote, changing the channel from soaps, to news. Leo glanced between the two of them, and then scanned the lair. "Where's Don?"


	3. Portal

_Thanks so much to my readers and reviewers for reading and reviewing!_

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**Chapter 3 : Portal **

"Try again."

"Leo, we've already tried twenty times, you think one more—"

"_Try. Again."_

Raph growled, and dialed Donatello's shell cell. Twenty calls, he'd counted, and there'd been no answer. Don's lack of response had them sprinting through the sewers, while Splinter kept watch on the news, at home. If any reports of those helicopters became public, they needed to know, but more importantly, they needed to find their brother. Whatever those copters were doing, whatever they were searching for, the likelihood was slim that they would bypass a giant mutated turtle on their way, and there was no telling what state Donnie was in at this point. The remaining three couldn't think of many circumstances under which he wouldn't answer their calls.

They splashed along the dark path, moonlight sweeping over their shells in striped patches as they moved, and their breath echoing through the wet concrete tunnels. They had nearly reached the junkyard, with only a block remaining, when the hollow ringing from Raph's shell cell stopped, replaced by the static of a connected line.

"He answered." Raph came to a halt, his feet sliding a bit on the wet stone beneath the water. He stared at the cell in astonishment, before putting the device to his ear. "Donnie. _Donnie!"_ Leo and Mikey splashed to a stop as they turned to look at him expectantly, Mikey holding his breath in anticipation of his brother's call. He watched Raph's face, wondering why the turtle only looked perplexed… and then angry. "_Donnie_, pick up! Yo! _Say_ somethin'!"

A voice came through the shell cell, but it wasn't Don's. "Who the hell do you all think you are!" the gravelly voice shouted, "What kinda prank is this? You got no idea what I'm gonna do to—" There was a sudden loud BANG, "--_kshhhhh_….!" The sound faded to static, and the call ended. A moment of bewildered silence passed, and the only prevalent noise around the three turtles was the slow dripping of water that condensed on the ceiling and fell to the stagnant stream at their feet. A rumbling growl escaped Raph's throat, and he shoved through Mikey and Leo, clenching the shell cell in his hand as he charged down the sewer tunnel.

"We gotta move!" He yelled to the other two, who weren't far behind him.

--------------------------------

The junkyard was quiet, and still, save for the three shellbacks leaping over the security fence, one by one. They each landed softly, not making a sound, and moved quickly through the lot, with Leo in the lead. He glanced back and forth along the moonlit aisles of scrap metal, and turned to his brothers with a look of determination. "Split up. Mikey, you take the west end, Raph, head down the middle. I'll meet you guys on the other side." He moved to break, and Mikey's eyes widened, slightly panicked and watching Leo.

"West, where's west?"

Leo gave Mikey an impatient glance, and pointed to the other end of the junkyard. "_Go_!"

Mikey nodded quickly and obediently, and took off at a run, while his brothers disappeared behind the heaps of appliances and vehicles behind him. He kept low, and edged around the rusted obstacle course cautiously, unsure about what he might find around the next corner. Places like these tended to breed sentient robots, and obese megalomaniacal garbage men. Mikey couldn't spell "megalomaniacal", but he knew it was best to be careful. After all, Donnie had run into _some_ kind of trouble out here.

At least, they thought Don was still here. For all they knew, a gang fight could have distracted him on his way home… maybe he'd tried to help, and been outnumbered. Or maybe something happened here at the junkyard, and the fight moved off of the property… maybe he just dropped his shell cell, a passerby found it, and Donnie was just fine. Maybe… maybe it had something to do with the helicopters.

"C'mon, Don Boy, where are you?" Mikey shook his head, whispering to himself. He paused behind the rear fender of a car that was nothing more than a rusted frame, resting his hand on the corroded metal as he looked out over the back corner of the lot. The moonlight dulled everything to a hazy shade of cool gray, surreal and colorless. His eyes scanned the area, over the dark, twisted piles of junk, and the flat, sandy dirt road that wound between them. His gaze finally fell on an impression in the sand only a few feet ahead that made him smile. Mutant turtle footprints were rather unmistakable. Mikey straightened up, and moved swiftly across the aisle to follow them.

He hadn't gone very far before he saw a dark form lying still on the ground, and he frowned in concern as he moved closer. Squinting, he could make out four legs, and a snout... it was one of the guard dogs that usually patrolled the junkyard. "Huh." He remarked quietly, as he spotted the second dog, in the same state as the first, sprawled across the dirt, unmoving. He frowned. "Poor Bowser. …Whoa." There was the security guard, collapsed and motionless on the ground, and beside him, Donatello.

Mikey rushed to Donnie's side. Don was kneeling on the ground, his eyes open, but he was as still as the junkyard itself. Mike's kneepad skidded across the sand as he dropped down next to Don, coming face to face with him. "Donnie! Wow, am I glad we…" Mikey trailed off, searching Donnie's face for recognition. Donnie simply stared down at the silver globe he held in his hands, unblinking. His breathing was slow and quiet. Mikey examined the situation for only a moment, before the nighttime calm of the junkyard was broken by the rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades through the air over their heads. He looked up quickly, while Donatello remained unresponsive, unaffected by his surroundings. "Okay, time to skedaddle, bro! You got that?" He hopped back to his feet, and out of the corner of his eye saw something dart across the dirt path in front of him. It was some kind of small, skinny, black figure. He would have mistaken it for a person, if its movements weren't so reptilian, but it was gone in an instant, and Mikey was only left with the eerie impression that he had just seen a junk-monster. "What the…?" Raph's voice came from his left, startling him.

"You found 'im!" Raph rushed through the darkness, followed closely by Leo. "Donnie?"

It took Mikey a moment to pull himself away from the thought of the creature he was mostly sure he'd just seen, turning his attention back to his catatonic brother with a worried expression. "He- he's not moving! I dunno, I just…" Mikey shook his head, and looked to Donatello imploringly. "Green light, dude, c'mon!"

Leo looked over the silver orb in Don's hands, and the spikes that prevented him from letting go of it, and his brow furrowed. He and Raph had barely registered their confusion, when the sound of the helicopters grew louder, and their concern for Donatello paled in comparison to their need for safety.

"They're here! I don't know what they're looking for, but they're looking for it _here!_" Leo exclaimed, glancing up to the sky as the choppers hovered, bright spotlights sweeping over the lot. He looked back to the others. "We need to leave, _now_!" He slid past Raph, stepping over the body of the security guard, noticing Don's shell cell lying next to the man. He picked up the cell, pausing only momentarily to note the guard's dull, lifeless stare. Leo took in a breath, and tossed the phone to Raph, who caught it with a swipe of his hand, and proceeded to lift Don by his arms, pulling him up with a grunt.

"Mikey, gimme a hand, would ya?"

Mike nodded, and grabbed Don's legs, frowning.

"You sure you don't wanna walk, Donnie?" Don didn't respond, and Mikey nodded, conceding. "Okay."

Raph was watching the sky with narrowed eyes as the searchlights moved nearer. "Less talk, more walk, Mikey." He warned. The roar of a truck engine brought his attention to their intended escape route. A large, black armored vehicle now blocked the sewer entrance, and its heavy door slid open with a metallic bang. The turtles stopped in their tracks, as men in black special ops gear climbed out of the truck on the other side of the fence.

"No way!" Mike yelled. So much was happening that they didn't have an explanation for, and it was all happening at once. If they could only have a moment to think… but then again, Don was the one to think about things, and he was inexplicably out of the picture. They needed to help him, and to do that, they needed to lose the copters and the special ops team. Leo looked between the searchlights closing in on their position, and the troops blocking the exit.

"Find somewhere to hide." He ordered, and motioned for Mikey to keep moving.

"What about dat guy?" Raph followed, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the security guard.

"I don't think he's alive." Leo said plainly. Mikey grimaced.

While Mikey and Leo struggled with carrying Donatello, distracted by the chaos around them, the black creature slithered into view again, wedging its way between metal pipes and wire, scrambling past them across the piles of junk, seemingly running from the commotion.

"There it is again!" Mike yelled.

It definitely had two arms, and two legs, though it used all four limbs to assist in its writhing gait. It bumped into a dented hubcap, sending the object clattering loudly down the scrap heap, rolling to a stop at Raph's feet.

"There _what_ is again?" Raph kicked the hubcap out of his way, raising his voice to speak above the wind that whipped around them, caused by the low-flying copters. He spotted the creature, and expressed veritable horror, pulling his sais from his belt with lightning reflexes. "What da _hell _is dat!" The creature jerked sideways in response, and changed direction.

"What are you— Ahh!" Leo let out a yelp as the figure bolted past him, knocking him off balance, and sending the turtle and his plum-clad brother tumbling against the side of an old washing machine. The fall threw Mikey into a stack of wooden palettes, but he kept his eyes on the odd creature, watching it dodge a piece of falling scrap, and escape into an open chest freezer, slithering over the edge and into the box like a desert creature escaping the heat of the sun. Mike's eyes widened as a dim flash of white light followed the escape, making the edges of the freezer glow for a moment. Mike then looked curiously to the softly glowing globe in Don's hands, ignoring Leo's struggling form beneath his fallen brother.

"What _was_ that?" Leo pushed Don's shell forward, holding him steady, and checking over him to make sure he was all right. Donatello remained as unresponsive as before, oblivious to the fall.

"Don't ask me, but we got bigger problems." Raph pushed a table lamp aside, and grabbed Leo by the arm, yanking him out of the scrap. Leo took a step back, but kept close to Donnie, one hand on his shell, as he looked up to the sky again… the helicopters were right on top of them, hovering ominously. It was only a matter of seconds before the searchlights hit them. The wind from their circling, whooping blades tossed the ends of their bandanas into the air. At the other end of the lot, the tech-clad soldiers jogged nearer, their gear and guns jingling and clinking as they spread out across the junkyard.

"We're surrounded." Leo stated, reaching for one of his katanas with his free hand as he took in the situation.

"They don't know we're here yet!" Mikey pushed himself back up, and pointed optimistically to the chest freezer. "In there!" Leo's eyes narrowed, but he didn't have time to question… he helped to pick Don up again, and the three of them heaved their brother into the chest freezer, lowering him slowly to set him down gently… If anything, it was a temporary hiding spot. Leo leaned forward to make sure Don was okay inside. To his surprise, he saw nothing but empty space.

The chest freezer didn't have a bottom, nor did it end at the dirt floor of the junkyard. It went down, deep, into… somewhere else. Somewhere they couldn't see. Wherever that was, Don was there now, and after what he'd seen, Mikey was convinced this was a better route than capture, no matter how unknown. He only hoped that Raph and Leo were on the same page. The brothers shared a brief glance, before all three jumped into the empty freezer. They were gone, and the blindingly bright searchlight that fell across the area overpowered the dim, white glow at the edges of the appliance.


End file.
